


To Kiss a Stranger

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal, Bad dates, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, M/M, Sex, because i saw that video and was like imagine my otp, bottom!daryl, jerking off, public bathroom sex, public kisses, rick doesn't drink and drive, sex with strangers, top!rick, totalslut!daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: Daryl is on the worst date ever when he finds himself up on the kiss cam. When his date won't even even look up from his phone, he finds himself locking lips with a total stranger by the name of Rick Grimes. 
P.S. I edited this like half-asleep, so we'll all just pretend it's perfect until I read through it again tomorrow and cringe for twenty minutes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPDFSQ4zqe4).

At the age of thirty-five, Daryl Dixon was on his ‘first official date,’ a title he’d cringed at when Carol had said it. She’d invited herself over before the other man arrived, insisting on helping Daryl pick out his outfit for the special occasion.

He’d wanted to wear the usual, the usual being the first thing his fingers latched hold of when he reached into the tangle of clothes in his chest of drawers. If the guy didn’t like him in an olive green tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off, then he wasn’t gonna like him at all.   
  
“It’s not about your personality, Daryl,” Carol had told him. “It’s about presentation. You want him to see that you actually want to be there.”

“Wouldn’t be going if I didn’t want to be there.” But he’d let her stuff him into the black plaid shirt his aunt had bought him a couple Christmases ago just the same.   
  
An hour and a half into his date, and he wished he’d stuck with the tee shirt. Everyone he’d ever known had a “worst date they’d ever been on” story. As his date sat next to him texting his ex, Daryl knew without a doubt this would be his.

“Beer and sodas! Chips! Come and get ‘em! Sodas and beers! Chips right here!”   
  
Daryl whipped a $20 out of his wallet and thrust it in the direction of the girl with the mini ice chest strapped to her chest. A yelled conversation and Daryl found himself with an ice cold bottle of Coors and significantly less change than he’d hoped to get back, despite knowing full well how much the beer cost given that it was his fifth of the evening.

“Can’t believe we’re actually winning,” the man to his left drawled to a friend. He was the only saving grace of the evening. As his date from hell sat on his right telling his ex all about the super amazing hot date he was on (yeah, right), Daryl had taken to slyly ogling the ridiculously gorgeous man on his other side. It was either him or actually paying attention to the game, and Daryl had just never gotten into professional sports of any kind.

Besides, a guy with thick thighs, bright blue eyes and a voice that made Daryl want to dry hump the back of the seat in front of him was better than any basketball game.   
  
“Right? I can’t remember the last time we beat the Warriors. This is incredible.”   
  
The other voice belonged to the man’s friend. He was Asian, probably somewhere in his mid to late 30s and clearly attractive even if he didn’t appeal to Daryl in the same way as his friend. At least he hoped they were friends. The two men were obviously extremely close, and Daryl had already had to bite back jealousy at the thought that they might be in a relationship.   
  
And then he had to laugh at himself while downing a few swigs of beer. Like the guy to his left would ever go out with someone like him.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman, it’s time for the Hawks kiss cam!” The announcer’s voice boomed throughout the arena alongside the sound of a blaring airhorn. “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer poured out of the speakers.

Forcing himself not to physically gag, he glanced to his right, totally thrilled to discover that his date was in the middle of describing word-for-word how he wanted to lick his ex’s (were they even still exes?) asshole.   
  
Daryl moved his eyes to the kiss cam instead, watching a dark haired woman place a peck on the lips of blond with glasses and thick cheeks. Keeping his eyes on the screen, he focused his attention to his left, watching the wavy-haired man next to him pop a potato chip into his mouth and lick the salt off his fingers.   
  
The hunter swallowed thickly. Why couldn’t he be on a date with _that guy_? Better yet, why hadn’t he brought his own vehicle to this damn thing so he could leave? He was never going on another date without an escape route, that was for sure. At least he had finally succeeded in getting mildly drunk.

He took another sip and looked back at the screen only to realize in horror that his own face was staring back at him, a cartoon heart drawn around him and the fucking dildo he'd come with. His eyebrows shot up, and then he looked at the man to his right immersed in his text conversation. He groaned internally. It was _him_ or being up on the screen awkwardly until they panned to someone else. He tapped his shoulder.   
  
The fucker didn’t even look up, waving him away with his hand like a housefly. Another tap. This time Daryl pointed at the screen. The guy turned away from him.   
  
“I’ll kiss you, gorgeous,” someone drawled. And despite how red he already was from being snubbed by his date on screen in front of 20,000 people, Daryl felt his insides start to melt pleasantly. He turned around, locking onto blue eyes that were even more mesmerizing when looked at directly. Trying to play off his own excitement (because _holyfuck_ ), he shrugged before diving in and pressing his lips against the other man’s.   
  
Around them, the crowd erupted with laughs and cheers. Inside, Daryl’s heartbeat shot past anything resembling a healthy speed. The hunter had expected a pity peck, a simple rescue from the awkward situation. And he’d been grateful for even that.   
  
What he hadn’t expected was for the other man’s tongue to slide past his lips and swipe against his own. He moaned into the kiss without thinking, which only encouraged his newfound partner. Fingers wrapped around the back of Daryl’s neck, pulling him harder into the already frenzied kiss.   
  
If a little voice in the back of his head hadn’t said, “you’re probably still on screen,” Daryl probably would have never pulled away.

"Well there you have it, folks. Always pay attention to your date," the announcer joked. 

“What the fuck?” Daryl’s date said somewhere behind him. Presumably the asshole had finally decided to pay attention to something other than rekindling his other relationship via acronyms and banana emoji.

Daryl didn’t even turn around, focusing instead on the deep blue eyes burrowing into his. Heat pooled in the hunter’s stomach. He could smell beer on the other man’s breath, the scent mingling with the aroma of fresh popcorn and sweat. He glanced over at the scoreboard to make sure the camera had moved on.  
  
“I need to stretch my legs,” the man said. “You?”

“Could use a stroll,” Daryl answered, his pulse racing in his neck. Something told him he had just the right combination of beer and insecurity pumping through his system to make a glorious mistake. He followed the stranger up the stairs and out into the foyer.

“I’ve worked extra security for this building a few times. Know it inside and out,” the man said as he weaved carefully around people out visiting the concession stands or the restrooms. “I’m Rick by the way.”   
  
“Daryl.”   
  
The hunter let the other man lead him down an escalator and through multiple hallways he never would have thought to go down on his own. It was around the time that Daryl realized he was thoroughly lost if he had to make it back to the court without guidance that Rick opened the door to a deserted restroom.   
  
“Where are we?”   
  
“Near the south parking garage,” Rick said, looking Daryl up and down in a way that made his cheeks flush with warmth. “It fills up when people are coming to and leaving the game, but during...”  
  
“Empty,” Daryl said, feeling dumb as soon as he said it. No fucking shit, it’s empty. That’s why he brought you here.   
  
“Your date’s an asshole,” Rick said matter-of-factly. “And an idiot.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Daryl said.   
  
“Then again, if he wasn’t...” Rick backed him against the line of sinks, letting his lower body press against Daryl’s. His erection was so obvious, it made Daryl dizzy. “Would it be weird if I said I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all night?”   
  
“Been watchin you like a hawk. Guess we’re both weird.”   
  
“You’ve been real sly about it then, Daryl,” Rick said, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. “Would have never noticed.”   
  
“Didn’t notice you either, Rick.” Daryl squirmed, need swelling in his stomach. “Wish I had. Could’ve used a walk about three quarters ago.”   
  
Rick didn’t answer him, not at first, settling instead for mouthing and biting Daryl’s pulse point. He ground his hips into the hunter’s, and Daryl moaned at the feeling of his denim jeans sliding roughly against his hardening cock. 

“Rick...” he said, wondering if he could feel the echo of Daryl’s heart thrumming beneath his lips. “Rick, stop.”   
  
The other man did so without hesitation.   
  
“Change your mind, darlin?”   
  
“No,” Daryl said. God no. He was going to get something good out of this damn date if it killed him. “Just...”

“Slow down?”   
  
“No,” Daryl said. “Just don’t really wanna walk back to my seat with precum stains.”

Rick laughed quietly, the roughness of his voice scraping deliciously down Daryl’s spine. Jesus, he hoped the sex was half as good as the lead-up.   
  
“Let’s fix that,” he said, grabbing Daryl by the shirt and dragging him toward the largest stall. As soon as the door locked, he reached for the zipper of his jeans, undoing the hunter’s pants and then his own. Rick fished Daryl's cock out first, the briefest touch of another man’s fingers on him enough to make him gasp quietly.

"Sensitive," Rick said, trailing his fingers down his length before turning his attention to his own open jeans. 

The actual sight of the other man’s cock made Daryl’s throat feel unusually dry. He licked his lips, two seconds away from dropping to his knees and sucking the stranger's cock like a thick milkshake when Rick took both of them in his hands, pressing their erections together and rocking his hips.   
  
“Ah fuck,” Daryl said quietly, arching into the tunnel of warmth created by fingers and palms. He reached down, adding his own hands into the mix of sin. His whole body twitched when Rick moaned quietly.

“How good are you at keeping your balance?” Rick asked. And how he could manage to form a whole sentence with his cock dragging along Daryl’s length astounded the hunter to no end.

“Good,” Daryl said, squeezing his hands tighter and biting his lip at how roughly his cock slid against the other man’s. They were going to need spit or lube soon or things were going to get uncomfortable fast.   
  
“Let’s see then.” Rick took his hands away, grabbing Daryl’s wrists and pulling his away too. The hunter practically whimpered, trying his best to keep rubbing against the other man. Rick shushed him quietly, backing him up against the wall of the stall.

“Shit,” Rick said. “Didn’t exactly think this through.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Kinda figured I’d wrap one of your legs around my waist and fuck you,” Rick said. “But that kind of assumes you’d want that for starters.”   
  
“Want what?”   
  
“To bottom.”  
  
“Sort of the only way I like it,” Daryl said, already craving the stretch and burn of a cock sliding into deep his ass. "It's okay the other way, but I'd rather." 

“I don't have any..."  
  
Daryl pulled out his wallet, saying a quiet prayer. He hadn’t even thought about lube with Carol making him try on every shirt he owned that still had intact sleeves.

C’mon, gay sex gods. You fucking owe me for making me go out with that walking asshat upstairs.

The hunter thumbed through the slots, biting his lip as he navigated past his debit card and his work ID. There, tucked behind his driver’s license was a little packet of lubricant. He exhaled in relief, pulling it out and showing it to Rick.

Bingo. Checkmate. Now fucking rail me.  
  
“One second,” Rick said, pulling up his pants and covering his dick with the bottom of his Hawks tee. He dug in the pockets and produced a handful of quarters before making his way back out of the stall. In the mean time, Daryl took it upon himself to pull one leg free of his pants and tear the lube packet open with his teeth.   
  
He had a whole finger inside of himself before Rick came back in with a condom from the bathroom vending machine.   
  
“Having fun?” Rick asked, squeezing the condom wrapper between his fingers. Satisfied that it was intact, he tore it open, working the latex onto his cock.

“Won’t take me a second,” Daryl said, adding another finger. It had probably been all of twenty four hours since he’d had something in there. Something being a seven inch dildo with a diameter hardly smaller than the average soda can. Daryl was a size queen if there ever was one, and Rick had more than enough to satisfy that itch.   
  
“You do this a lot?” Rick asked, patiently stroking himself while he waited for Daryl to finish prepping himself.    
  
“’This’ meanin?” Daryl choked out.   
  
“Sex with strangers.”   
  
“Kinda yes,” Daryl said. “Kinda no.”

Truth be told, Daryl was a bit of a slut. He’d had a hard time finding anyone genuinely interested in him, but hookups were easy. He’d learned that most of the guys he interacted with online didn’t see him as true boyfriend material (and honestly, the feeling was usually mutual), but they had no problem fucking him in secret. And Daryl had no problem with being used so long as he was getting regular orgasms out of it.

Though he had to admit he wouldn’t mind actually being cared about for a change.

“Usually have...at least a conversation first,” he said, slipping in a third finger. Rick watched the hunter’s cock twitch, stroking his own a little harder. And by any calculation the other man had to be a record for the fastest Daryl had ever hopped into bed with someone. If you could call a public bathroom stall “bed.”

“I think this is technically a conversation,” Rick said. Daryl’s mouth jerked into a muted smile.   
  
“C’mere then.”

Rick crossed the stall in seconds without any hesitation, hiking Daryl’s leg up around his waist and pushing him back up against the cool metal. The hunter felt the stranger's cock brush against the sensitive skin between his cheeks before the other man reached down to angle it properly, the head butting right up against his hole.

Rick raised one eyebrow and Daryl nodded, wrapping his arms around his partner’s torso and grabbing his shoulders from behind. With one hand tightly gripping the hunter’s thigh, Rick slid inside. 

Daryl sighed happily at the fullness invading him, rocking his body onto the intrusion. He turned his head, burying it in the crook of Rick’s neck where he immediately took to lazily lathing at the suntanned skin of the other man’s throat. 

Between them, Daryl’s cock rubbed against the fabric of Rick’s tee, and he wondered briefly if the other man cared that he was likely streaking his clothing with precum with every rustle.

“How’s that feel?” Rick asked.

“Keep goin,” Daryl said. “Harder.”   
  
“Don't worry. I’m not stopping until I cum inside your filthy little hole, Sugar,” Rick said, pushing Daryl’s body harder against the stall with his own. Daryl’s back popped a few times from the pressure, and he groaned both at the release of tension he didn’t even realize he had and at the feeling of Rick pushing deeper inside of him.

Grunting, Daryl hiked his leg higher, seeking the perfect angle for the hurried affair. The other man took the hint, using his strength to hold Daryl's thigh against the lower part of his rib cage.

The slight shift worked beautifully for Daryl. Pleasure started building slowly but surely and he found himself moaning quietly into his partner’s sweaty skin, the sound waves traveling through the other man’s flesh and tickling the tip of his nose.   
  
“Fuck,” Daryl said, tightening his grip and digging his fingertips into the tops of Rick’s shoulders. The fabric of his tee shirt slipped and slid, and Daryl temporarily let go to push his arms up underneath the cotton. Rick’s skin felt like soft sun-warmed leather.   
  
“Can you take it harder?” Rick asked, panting softly.   
  
“Can take anything,” Daryl said. And he meant it. He’d been with guys who wanted to see how long they could keep him hard without letting him cum. And he’d been with one who literally took him room to room just seeing what he could fit inside of him. He’d yet to have anyone do anything to his ass that he didn’t like so long as they used enough lube and stretched him properly first.

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter,” Rick said. “But here we are.” Digging his fingertips into Daryl’s lower thigh, he used the other to brace himself on the wall. And then he started pounding away, fucking into Daryl’s ass so hard that the bolts and brackets of the bathroom stalls began to squeak.   
  
Daryl’s mouth slacked open and he pressed it against his partner’s skin, moaning against the flesh. Drool ran down Rick’s neck and caught on the collar of his shirt.   
  
The frenzy added fuel to the fire that was their now perfect alignment. Each thrust added to the mounting pressure building inside the hunter, and every swipe of his cock over Rick’s shirt felt highly dangerous. 

Something told Daryl he should say something about how close he was. And wanted to warn the other man that he should probably do something if he didn’t want Daryl shooting a load all over his clothes. He really did.

But his entire body was trembling with the effort, the one knee supporting him threatening to give out. Even if he hadn’t been focused on holding onto Rick for dear life, he wasn’t entirely sure he was actually capable of forming words at all.    
  
“Jesus, you’re perfect,” Rick gasped.   
  
Daryl moaned in response because it was all he could do. He was so close. So so close. He whined quietly against the other man’s throat.   
  
“Such a needy little slut too.” Rick reached up and grasped his hair. Tugging roughly near his crown, he yanked Daryl’s head back until he was staring at the ceiling, his entire throat bared to the other man.   
  
The hunter came almost instantly, the orgasm so strong that he barely made a sound as he stared up at the fiberglass tiles, his whole body jolting with every twitch of his cock.

Somewhere in the middle, Rick finished too. He groaned low in his throat and Daryl felt the subtle spasms of him emptying inside him. God, he loved sex.   
  
When Rick slipped out and let his leg fall, Daryl found he could barely stand. He managed to turn himself just enough to fall down onto the toilet seat where he tried his best to tuck his boot-clad foot back into his jeans.   
  
He vaguely registered the zip of Rick’s jeans and the clinking of his belt buckle.   
  
“Here,” Rick said, squatting down in front of him. He helped force the denim back over the treads of his work boots. Daryl found it in himself to stand and pull his jeans the rest of the way up.   
  
“Sorry,” he said, gesturing toward the wet spots of cum dotting the entire front of Rick’s shirt.

“Means we have to trade shirts,” Rick said, smiling softly at him.   
  
“Don’t think that shirt could hold me,” Daryl said. He and Rick weren’t that much different in size, but the white tee was pretty snug on his frame, and Daryl always had to size up for the shoulder room. 

“I wasn’t that worried about it,” Rick said. “Parked right around the corner. Sucks to miss the end of such a great game, but I can’t say it wasn’t worth it.

"What about your friend?"   
  
"Glenn drove himself."  
  
"Want me to tell him you split when I get back up there?" Daryl asked. "Hope that asshole will still give me a ride home." 

“Oh, you misunderstood me, sweetheart,” Rick said. “That was an invitation. I'll make sure you get home. _Eventually_.” Rick said the last word with an air of wicked mischief that made Daryl’s stomach flip flop.   
  
“Don’t live in Atlanta,” Daryl confessed, directing another prayer to whomever happened to be listening. He had no interest in seeing the man upstairs ever again for any reason. But more than that, he really wanted to see what Rick had in mind for the rest of the evening. “Live about fifty miles east.”   
  
“I can do fifty,” Rick said without hesitation. “But first I’m thinking a couple cheeseburgers and the two of us exploring whether or not you even wanna go home tonight.”

“Keep it up, and you might never get rid of me,” Daryl said.   
  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Daryl.” Rick stepped forward, crowding the hunter's space. The lingering smell of beer and the scent of fresh sex drifted together into Daryl's nose, and then Rick kissed him, slow and languid, like the coals of a dying fire that could easily roar back to life if properly fueled. Daryl had a feeling Rick had plenty of gasoline at his disposal. 

“C’mon,” he said, and Daryl followed him out of the bathroom and toward the parking garage. As soon as Rick found a jacket and zipped it over his messy shirt, he decided they’d be better off taking a cab.  
  
“Probably shouldn’t lose my badge over a few drinks at a basketball game even if I am pretty sure I've more than sobered up,” he said. Daryl didn’t mind waiting for the cab at all. Nor did he mind knowing he pretty much had no choice but to spend the night wherever Rick called home. 

All that mattered was that his date from hell had somehow miraculously been salvaged, and there was still plenty more to come.


End file.
